


Hand on the shoulder

by sickscenes, sleekStingray



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 00:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickscenes/pseuds/sickscenes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleekStingray/pseuds/sleekStingray
Summary: CG: ONE SECOND I’M FEARING FOR MY LIFE AND THE NEXT I’M READING ANOTHER CHAPTER ABOUT ERIDAN AMPORA’S PATHETIC LOVE ADVENTURES: NOW IN SPACE.CG: I WONDER WHICH ONE IS WORSE.





	Hand on the shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, this is not a romantic story. It's a pretty despondent lil fic, actually.  
> Shotout to sickscenes for agreeing to beta this.

CC: You are doing W)(AT!  
CA: wwasnt this long time coming  
CA: i mean literally wwhat else am i supposed to do stay on this shithole of a planet and wwait to be culled  
CA: no offence you knoww wwhat i mean  
CA: besides its not like you need me anymore lately wwith your neww cool ring of pals an such wwho wwill lay their lifes for you wwhen you wwill tell them  
CA: wwhich is great because thats wwhat you should fuckin expect as a future empress an i support you wwith my wwhole blood pumpin vvessel you knoww that right  
CA: so your lusus wwill be wwell fed evven wwithout my presence in your life wwhich is all you reely needed me for if wwe are honest about it right  
CC: Don’t you use fish puns when you are dropping all that carp on me young man! You know that is not what I want at all! I believe that we can overthrow the hag with the smallest blood possible and work towards peaceful future where there will be place for –EVERYON-E, even you, mr grumpygills!  
CC: Even if you are deliberately working against it 38(  
CA: yeah wwell your plans dont change the reality of our current wworld do they  
CA: first a all wwhen you are an empress you wwill need a great army at your command wwith an experienced general as its leader and thats wwhen i come in your scheme  
CA: consider me a double agent i wwill get all the knowwlege they wwill foolishly givve me on silvver platter as it is my bloodright and then flip it on them wwhen the time comes  
CA: second a all its not like i have an alternativve wwhat do you expect me to wwrite a letter to alternias milita and go oh im so fucking sorry im a part of the rebellion to ovverthrow our current empress  
CA: do you have my address an such so you can send drones and fucking wwipe me from this plants face once and for all  
CA: they wwill be at my throat and most likely in my guts the second i hit the send button  
CC: T-HER-E WILL BE NO N-E-ED FOR AN ARMY! 38/ W-E went over this so many times its exhausting at this point, the only position that I will introduce will be P-EAC-EMAK-ER and you are more of a troublemaker, if we are R-E-ELY honest with each other. I’m not stupid, I understand that road to a bettered society will be a rocky one but we will not build it on violence all over again, I want you to understand this!  
CA: yeah also shouldnt you be psyched about me not attempting to deal wwith lowwbloods for once but instead fuckin off into space dealing wwith intergalac threats an such  
CA: for example fucking colonies uprising all the time in the future wwhen you wwont control them anymore  
CC: Your point about colonies immediately uprising against us is laughable at its best, they are too exhausted as is to try and attack Alternia once we loosen our grip on them. Then, when they see that they are no longer in her golden clutches but instead in new empires LOVING -EMBRACE they will understand that this is the best turn of events for everyone!  
CC: You do raise another good point, about drones, double agents, and spies at the doors.  
CC: Our conversations were secure enough for me not to worry for a long time but I cannot risk my subjects by simply talking to somebody who is part of enemy`s army!  
CC: I`m sorry it had come to this 38( But we better block each other and, please, delete our old conversations. You know it`s for the betta!  
CC: This is only till I become new –EMPRESS. Keep yourself safe till then, please.  
CA: wwait fef are you being serious right noww you cant just cut me off like that wwe wwere there for each other this wwhole time and noww it doesnt matter anymore just like that  
CA: im literally just tryin not to get myself killed at the vvery start a my life this is such bullshit  
CC: I am now leader first, and friend second, -Eridan. There will be better times, when we all will laugh about this in company of good friends. I promise! But, till then, GOODBY-E!  
\-- cuttlefishCuller [CC] blocked calugulasAquarium [CA] at 16:41 –  
CA: wwell fuck

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you are on everybody's shit list. All the bodies. Because of different circumstances the little friend group you used to be a member of fell apart, and now the last person you actually ever cared about, or so you tell yourself, is ditching the boat as well, while you sink with it like true captain would. One would argue that it only worked if whoever performs that dramatic and theatrical gesture could actually drown and die in waters, but you would simply deck that person in the face and carry on with your day, because you have no time to spare on idiots and their stupid remarks.

You could understand the reasoning of some of your ex-friends. Fear for one’s own life is a powerful thing and self-preservation is completely understandable! But also, of course, it was stupid of them to ditch talking to trolls they knew almost since they pupated simply out of fear that they will be found by their IP address or some shit. How naïve someone must be to not understand that the Empire already has them hooked by fins?

Others, you figured, simply got bored of having the presence of the same trolls throughout their whole lives, and longed for new, fresh and exciting experiences. In your book, they were filled under “utter dumbasses,” because, as a history scholar, you know that all history does is repeat itself over and over, so why break out of the comfort of an already established loop if you are not threatened with anything at the moment?

What all that actually meant, though, was that you were no longer tied to this planet in any way. Nothing to owe to anyone, anymore, no strings attached. The older you grew, the clearer grew your understanding that the rest of life you will spend relying only on yourself and nobody else. Sure, the idealistic world that Fef promised sounded sweet, probably, although you weren’t too sure about that. Breaking the spine of the current system to try and remake mistakes of the past seemed like a losing battle even before it started. So many powerful trolls who would stand for the current empire`s ways and only a handful of kids that Fef gathered under her brightly colored banners. Your support was genuine, of course, but you preferred to keep a realistic outlook on the situation. Better days would never come, as it never gets better, and only gets worse.

Maybe, you thought, all of this was just a trial version of a life that awaited you. Everybody fucks up now and then on the playground but none of this actually matters in the big game, right? You acted immature and stupid, sure, you were self-aware enough to admit that, but who wouldn’t have after going thru the unarguably hardest time of their life – growing up?

You looked out the window, and into the sky. From now on, it was only you, stars, and whoever’s sorry ass you will have to annihilate for the Empire’s greater good.

________

Well, in reality, stars and annihilation would come after several trials and heaps of tedious paperwork. Of course, every troll would be sent to space regardless of how well they did on their history test or physical checks but it sorta mattered to you if you would play the role of a mastermind who moves all the pawns on the field, or cannon fodder. It sorta mattered a whole lot. So, naturally, you were prepared to go hard at whatever trial that would be thrown your way.

What you were not prepared for was for your ancestor to show up as the member of jury.

Jury was supposed to be somewhat anonymous, and it partially worked – you could only see their silhouettes in the dark, taking notes, observing examinees and creating a hostile working environment. It`s just he was impossible to mistake for anybody else, with that curvature of horns you knew all too well. You saw those horns on the pages of history books. You saw those horns on military propaganda that you got spammed with the closer you were to ordeals. You saw those horns in the mirror every day of your life.

Parallels were so easy to make.

How many times did you imagine making it to highest ranks of the army? Commanding your own fleet? Scoring victory after victory, getting all the spoils that could ever be gained, much like he did? And, then, as a cherry on top, he would finally come up to you, and firmly shake your hand as a final confirmation of your worth, accepting you as his equal. Hell, maybe even accepting you as his superior. After all, you were hatched not to blindly follow his footsteps, but to perfect his ways. That’s how your first meeting should have gone.

Instead, you are not even technically accepted into the army yet, your palms are sweaty, putting your rifle at risk of slipping out of your grip, and he looks at you across the giant room, his eyes squinted – you can't see that from the distance, but you can swear he is squinting – as if questioning your worth and even necessity of your existence.

Instead, you feel his heavy gaze on your neck each time you turn to shoot the target, or to throw a punch at the sparring opponent, or fill out whatever bullshit forms you need to get filled. You can feel it almost physically, and it weighs heavily on you. Makes your rifle miss by a few millimeters of perfect score, makes you catch somebody`s fist with your face, makes you mess up with several paper forms, fuck, why are they even still using papers, why wasn’t this shit automated, it would have been all so much easier to type instead of dealing with ink and antique pens!

________

This almost feels staged. Once more, life is a fucking theatre and you got scammed out of the role you were supposed to play. What else is new under the moons?

 

You stand outside of the building that you had just fucked up in, in so many different, tiny ways, that it’s almost impressive to you. All mistakes will surely be summed up and, before you could be humiliated further, you are already picturing yourself charging into the battle alongside whatever shitbloods they picked up without trials and tests, getting your head crushed by huge fucking rock or something like that, since you, apparently, couldn’t use your think pan when it was needed.

As you sulk, standing at some distance from the others, who surely aced trials as they were not under immense pressure, unlike you, a familiar shadow overlaps yours.

It almost doesn’t look any different – same shape, after all, just wider and longer. For a second everything seems like a farce, and, maybe, if you shut your eyes closely enough, and then open them, you will see your own long shadow at the dawn of the day, rifle in your hand, another lusus dead and dumped in the sea. Unfortunately, nothing remotely close happens. Instead you are caught by the fin and your face is yanked up, eyes forced to meet your shade of violet in his iris.

“Hey. You. Ampora”, - you hear snark in his voice. “Not feeling so hot, huh? No wonder, though”, he grimaces, “Being forced to perform alongside all those commoners… Who wouldn’t get distracted, right? I wasn’t, a course, but such a young an inexperienced lad as yourself. It's understandable. Life on Alternia went soft, and so did youth. Don’t worry”, he places heavy hand on your shoulders, only now letting go of your fin. “You`ve got potential, I can tell. I'm sure I'll whip you up into shape in no time. What luck that I was present on the trials and managed to spot you, or, surely, you would have been thrown in with the cattle.” And, just like that, he walks away, leaving you speechless, and alone.

________

The next several month are a blur. 

Training that makes you fall into shallow sleep immediately after you submerge into the recuperacoon in your standard, three by four, block. It feels more like a closet, as all that it can store at the same time is you, is a HIC-branded laptop that they give to every newbie, your rifle, a pile of clothes, and two stacks of books. You complained about it in a fashionable manner to space ship management, to which they rudely replied with threats to shove you into an actual closet and leave you there for an unknown amount of time. When you are a captain of this ship - or any other - they will get your boots up their asses, but for now, you had to retreat.

Training grounds that make you anxious, at first. Sure, you were used to rust and green being spilled in large amounts, but there was something unnerving about the blue and even violet splatters on the walls, floor and even ceiling. After some time, though, you figured that training was simply to weed out weakest links of the chain, and occupied yourself and your pumping blood pusher with keeping your own hue of violet off the furniture and, instead, inside your body.

Other trainees, brothers in arms, or some shit like that, that bore you endlessly. You can't distinguish their faces from one another, and don't care enough to pull in the effort to try and remember any of them. They don't start conversations with you, and you pay back with the same coin, besides some snarky back and forth from time to time. Not like any of them even matter, really. You do fine on your own.

It quickly turns into routine.

The only thing that really keeps you afloat are the books that you borrow from the ship's library. Living through historical events, or, sometimes, even stupid little stories about mages and wizards, keeps your head just above this vast ocean of boredom. Imagining yourself as one of them is juvenile, of course, but it’s better than nothing at all. Sometimes, though, it makes you question your memories about Alternia - were those just you playing in sand castles, as well? You laugh bitterly at yourself and your moronic train of thought, and wish you didn’t listen to your own overly dramatical thoughts about starting life from a brand new, fresh leaf. Maybe you should have brought some meaningful trinket to remember your former home by. Something other than several pairs of striped pants and a rifle, at least.

________

On the way to the library, you bump into him for the first time since the trials. It makes sense, meeting him here, since this level holds other cabinets of utmost importance. Strategy discussion, storage of top secret documents, and transmissions with HIC herself happen on this floor, so close, yet, for now, out of your reach.

He towers over you, curiosity in his eyes. Without asking, he takes the book out of your hands. “Brushin` up strategy, huh? Good call. Where did you sniff out the info, though?”  
“I’m sorry, sir?” you raise your eyebrow as he flips through your bookmarks. When you remember how much information on him you had highlighted in this book in sharpie - against library’s wishes -, you desperately want your book back, right now.  
“Tomorrow’s battle”, he explains, mercilessly tapping his finger right at the part where his name is underlined with a wavy line in a paragraph about battle in Cluster B. “Damagin’ library’s property?”  
“I remember it better this way,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. He raises his eyebrow.  
“Huh. I thought my name is memorable enough without visual aid.”  
“It’s not that, it’s just easier to learn something new when the topic you know everythin’ about is your start off point! This way, I can make some sorta mental map of historical events that occured in the last few centuries, an’ that makes them easier to analyze as well. Like, some decisions made in Cluster B are nonsense without knowledge about previous battles beforehand: shortage of resources back then, an’ the Empire lettin’ it be completely improvised on the spot -- which must have been so stressful --”  
“So this,” he cuts you off mid sentence, tapping his own name yet again, “is the topic you claim to know the most about?”  
You feel the blood rush to your fins.  
“Well, I mean, your approach to strategy an’ battle experience, an’, uh, maybe a handful of facts about other aspects a’ your biography?”  
“History books are full of shit, doll. Especially when it comes to my personal life, for some inexplicable reason. Don’t believe everythin’ that’s on paper, for your own sake. Maybe I’ll tell you some facts an’ anecdotes about myself some time, since you’re so invested in my persona. We’ll see.” He flicks your nose, “An’ don’t forget about tomorrow. You aren’t supposed to know about this, really. It’s just a fun li’l thing to keep cadets on their toes. But, since you’re lookin’ for pointers in these dusty folios anyways, I thought I’d give you some actually important info. Don’t tell anyone, though, this is just between us two, got it? Can’t wait to see you in action.”

Just between you two. 

It’s not like there’s anyone else on this ship who matters, anyways. 

________

 

The next day really is fun, at least in contrast with routine that was starting to drive you insane. The feeling of actual ground under your shoes is refreshing, even if it differs from Alternia’s soil, and gravity behaves slightly differently. For the first time in a while you feel truly in your element, just you, lusii-like monsters of this planet, and rapid fire. Well, also several rows of losers in front of you being an only annoyance in this otherwise almost idyllic setup.

Putting an end to such an unfortunate setup, you charge ahead at full force, easily getting close enough so you can perfectly headshot each creature in your scope with an almost perfect shot to kill ratio. He is not on the battlefield, of course, why would he be - this is basically kid’s play, and the rules of the game are as easy as they ever could be. You are sure he is watching, though; you can faintly feel his gaze on the base of your neck again, but this time it’s rather encouraging, and you shoot some awful looking creature where its blood pusher should theoretically be, and then in the head, just to make sure nothing remains.

You prefer not to notice the others in your way. Somebody, as you cut in front of them them, misfires their rifle into someones leg. Somebody gets trampled over. Somebody loses their eye.

You are victorious.

________

Back on the ship, as you listen to the operation’s analysis and pointers for the future, your mood sours. For some stupid reason, you don’t hear your name listed in the top ten, nor the top twenty, or any other positively marked lists. Instead, it ends up on a list of fuck ups: you are critiqued for injuring others. None of your brilliant decisions or heroic actions are mentioned whatsoever.

“This is basically war, even if only a kiddy, trial version a’ it. Casualties happen,” you say under your breath, eyes searching for him. He’d get what you were going for. 

Dualscar is standing further away, silently observing the situation, his face almost unreadable. You can still see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards several times as you are being chastised. Does it seem funny to him? Are your mistakes so laughable? Or does he understand and is, maybe, proud of you? You wish you had mind reading powers as you stare into his face. 

After every piece of analytical info about the little fight with fauna was listed, most of the trolls break the neat row that you were a part of and scatter through the ship. You and a handful of other losers are held up and informed that you will spend some time in the punishment block, thinking long and hard about your mistakes. Others are escorted away immediately, you are an exception, as Dualscar signals for you to come closer. You throw a smug look at the lieutenant as you march past him.

As you walk beside Dualscar in complete silence, deeper and deeper into the ship, you don’t feel so smug anymore.  
“So, about your behaviour back at the field,”  
“Yes?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow, holds it until you correct yourself, “Yes, sir?”  
“Reckless. I expected better from you.”  
“Ah…”  
“Your disregard for your fellow trolls is amusing, and should be expected from somebody of your caste, I will admit that. An’ I approve of it, too, but what a criminal waste of resources! How short sighted a’ you to throw their lives away without gettin’ a good use out of them first? Very simple minded of you. From somebody who claimed to so thoroughly study strategy? Such a disappointment. Or was it somethin’ else in the center of your studies? I do wonder...”  
Your head is hanging low.  
“I just wanted… I thought you wanted to see me in action, an’ so I went into action. Sir.”  
“I was curious about it, and my curiosity was satisfied, underwhelmingly so. Rushed decisions, mediocre combat an’ shooting... I expected a spectacle! but instead…” he made a gesture that was supposed to signify just how mediocre it all was.  
“Mediocre?!” you parrot incredulously, pride shutting off your sense of self-preservation,. “It was perfect! Fuckin’ perfect! I hit them right in the head, blew out their disgustin’ eyes and brain matter! They died instantly, one after the other! I disregarded the others cuz they were in my fuckin’ way, a nuisance and nothing more! They aren’t resources if they can’t move their asses when needed!” you can feel your face turn deep purple, “I used to hunt, I hunted lusii my entire life, if there is anythin’ I know, it’s how to shoot a beast in its fuckin’ head on the first try, which is a feat when you need them fresh-” You cut yourself off before telling about your whole life story and spilling the beans about Fef’s lusus. Good timing, because he is towering over you, his hand on your neck, and you can feel tears in your eyes. Fear, regret, self-pity: it’s the usual cocktail.  
“Well, well, well. Look at this. Somebody`s finally showin’ his teeth!” Instead of ripping your gills out and calling it a day, he gently rolls his fingers over them. “Took you long enough, let me tell you! I was startin’ to think: what, he’s got no pride? Gonna just stand here n’ take it, battin’ his eyelashes at me?”

You tug at your collar. Were you batting your eyelashes? It was probably some subconscious shit you couldn’t control. Was it that obvious? Yeah, if he noticed.

“Your shootin’ aint bad, I`ll admit, but nothing out of the ordinary either. Don’t get your head up your ass ‘cuz you shoot bit better than your average troll. They’re just that – average, and you must be leagues above that, and you have to fuckin’ work to get there, got it? Cuz I'm not gonna drag you out of the mud by the fins.”  
“No need to drag me outta shit,” you mumble under your breath. He notices, still.  
“Don’t overdo it,” but he smiles, and smile seems genuine enough. You smile back.

________

A walk on the ship doesn’t save you from the time out in the cell, of course. A sight of Dualscar patting you on the shoulder does save you from having your electronics confiscated, and this little thing changes passing the time from agonizing to passable. You could relax and kick back as much as this minimalistically furnished block allows you to, but thoughts buzzing in your head don’t let you. Oh, what you would do to share your thoughts with somebody. 

Not much time passes when you realize there is actually a perfect candidate to talk about your hardships and possible budding relationship to. In fact, you knew this expert for so long that it was irritating to you that chatting him up wasn’t your first thought and just how much time you just spent on GrubTube instead.

\-- juniorLieutenant34205 [JL] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 19:43 --  
JL: hey

There is no reply for several minutes, even though you clearly see he is active, no matter what his pesterchum status claims. Logging into the chat from your work device had some perks, even though this way some customization, such as choosing your own handle, was lost. 

JL: i can see youre online  
CG: SORRY, OFFICER.  
CG: WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT FROM ME?  
JL: oh right  
JL: kar dont get your pants in a twwist thats me  
CG: YOU MUST BE FUCKING SHITTING ME.  
CG: IT IS THE FISH BREATH HIMSELF, THE FUCKING CAPED DOUCHE IN THE FLESH, BACK IN MY CHAT HISTORY, ANEW AND UNINVITED.  
CG: FOR SOME REASON IT’S NOT SURPRISING TO ME THAT YOU HAVE NO REGARD ABOUT OTHERS WISHES ABOUT THEIR SAFETY AND PERSONAL SPACE. I WONDER, HOW DID THAT HAPPEN? MAYBE BECAUSE YOU WERE ALWAYS SHIT AT THINKING ABOUT SOMEBODY WHO ISN’T YOURSELF FOR LONGER THAN TWO SECONDS, AND EVEN THEN THE TRUE FOCUS WAS STILL YOU AND YOUR FUCKING EMOTIONS.  
JL: thats unfair and you knoww it i thought plenty about others  
JL: like me handin out a helpin hand so all fuckin pissbloods n such dont die from one loudly screechin jusus is carin enough i think  
JL: or howw many times wwe talked about your problems an not exclusively mine so you cant engage in the endless slanderin a me because i get enough a that as it is  
JL: you have no idea howw hard it is an how underappreciated i am here an how tired i am  
CG: YEAH, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MISSED IN MY MISERABLE LITTLE LIFE: YOUR BLABBERING ABOUT HOW HARD IT IS FOR YOU. WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HARD.  
CG: WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MY CURRENT LIFE, AT ALL. AND WHAT DO YOU START THIS CONVERSATION WITH? HELLO, KARKAT, HOW ARE YOU? WHAT A PLEASANT FUCKING SURPRISE THAT YOU ARE STILL ALIVE! NOW THAT GREETINGS ARE OUT OF THE WAY, LET ME SUCK ON MY OWN SHAME GLOBES OF MISERY RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, AS USUAL?  
CG: YOU, INSTEAD, WENT STRAIGHT TO THE SPECTACLE! REALLY CUTTING EVERYTHING DOWN TO THE IMPORTANT PART, RIGHT?  
JL: an after that you say that im the dramatic one  
JL: i kneww that you are alivve already i kept my tabs on some a us  
JL: well i mean i didnt for last feww moons due to bein busy so it is actually good to knoww you are alivve  
JL: but yeah about me  
JL: theres a reason i wwrote you  
CG: OF COURSE THERE IS.  
CG: ONE SECOND I’M FEARING FOR MY LIFE AND THE NEXT I’M READING ANOTHER CHAPTER ABOUT ERIDAN AMPORA’S PATHETIC LOVE ADVENTURES: NOW IN SPACE.  
CG: I WONDER WHICH ONE IS WORSE.  
JL: wwoww you really are good a this i probably wwouldnt havve guessed as fast as you did  
JL: truly you are an expert in this field huh  
JL: i just really need an advice and you are the only person wwho evver cared about me an my emotions  
CG: AND IT CAME TO BITE ME RIGHT IN THE SHAME GLOBES.  
CG: WHAT IS IT, SINCE I KNOW YOU LACK THE THINK PAN MATTER TO LEAVE ME ALONE UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME JUST HOW MORONIC YOU ARE AND WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW .  
JL: so theres this guy an i think he might like me  
CG: GREAT, THAT’S THE MOST INFORMATIVE PIECE I HAD JUST READ IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. CARE TO EXPAND A BIT ON THAT, TROLL EINSTEIN? DID HE LOOK AT YOU ONCE FROM ACROSS THE ROOM AND DIDN’T VOMIT INSTANTLY, MAKING YOU BELIEVE THAT IT MUST BE TRUE LOVE?  
JL: wwell that i guess but also he basically fingered my neck gills not too long ago  
JL: an he should knoww how sensetivve those are  
JL: hes got them too  
JL: i mean i try not to make any rush analyses because it might be just me an ivve been burnt before but wwho knowws  
CG: I GUESS THAT’S SOMETHING. FOR ONE, THAT’S SOMETHING I NEVER WANTED TO READ WITH MY OWN TWO EYES, BUT NOW IT’S SOMETHING THAT HAS BEEN BURNED INTO THE BACK OF MY MIND. PROBABLY FOREVER.  
CG: WAS THERE ANYTHING ELSE THAN HIM PHYSICALLY ASSAULTING YOU, OR IS IT SITUATION WHERE I SHOULD ADVISE YOU TO TRY AND GET A RESTRAINING ORDER? OR EVEN JUST ATTEMPT TO KILL THE GUY ON THE SPOT BECAUSE WE BOTH KNOW RESTRAINING ORDERS ONLY WORK IN SHITTILY WRITTEN MOVIES?  
JL: we also talked sevveral times an it wwas pretty good  
JL: i feel he understands me  
JL: he really says things that resonate wwith me deeply an i think i understand him too  
JL: better then i evver understood anybody  
CG: THAT’S NOT SAYING MUCH, BECAUSE I THINK YOU BARELY UNDERSTAND WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING AT ANY POINT IN TIME.  
CG: BUT MAYBE IT REALLY TAKES ANOTHER SLIMY FACED, FINNED, VIOLENT DOUCHE TO APPRECIATE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE.  
JL: thanks kar you are a true bro  
JL: thats exacly wwhat i needed to hear  
CG: I WONDER, IF YOU STOPPED BEING AN IMBECILE WOULD THE UNIVERSE FUCKING CRUMBLE?  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering juniorLieutenant34205 [JL] at 20:16 --

_________

The next day, as you come back to your room from dinner, an envelope is waiting for you, placed on the floor right in the middle of the block, since there is no other suitable surface to put it onto. Your sign is imprinted in the wax seal. Or, rather, his sign. The letter is short and sweet (or, you decide that it’s sweet because he calls you a doll in it) and it’s a fact that it’s short because besides that there is almost nothing else other than a time and place mentioned. His handwriting is wide and assertive, as you look closer at the paper you see how deep the letters are pushed, almost carved out. You almost expect the letter to smell like roses, or pine trees, or anything at all, but, alas, it’s only ink. He either forgot or dropped that part of the etiquette. You can always soak it in fragrance later, on your own, or maybe remind him about this little bit with a letter of your own, but, later.

Another part of etiquette that he neglected is warning you beforehand. Sure, technically you found letter earlier than the meeting itself, but it sure wasn’t here this morning, not to mention the evening before, leaving you with little to no time to prepare and actually be on time to boot. Somehow, you doubted that being fashionably late was on the table in this situation. And third, probably most noticeable etiquette breach was him apparently breaking into your block. There was no other way that this letter would be placed in this particular place, for you to spot it right as you enter. 

But, other than that, it’s perfect, and you hide the letter away in one of your books. 

________

The strategy center block is completely empty when you enter it. The dramatic swing of your cape is wasted, as there is no living soul to witness it. 

Seems like somebody’s gonna be fashionably late, after all. 

You sigh and walk around idly, inspecting maps displayed on the walls. They are incredibly old and must serve only decorative and nostalgic purposes at this point. Some are signed with his - and your - sign. He must have created those himself. You try to entertain yourself with the maps for as long as you can, so when he walks in you could comment on the craft and quality, maybe mention some additions that you made to your copies back on Alternia. After some time, you decide to, instead, casually sit in one of the chairs placed around the table.

Yes, Dualscar, sir? Wwhy did you call me in at such late notice? You yourself are running quite late, if you hadn’t noticed, but for such a busy man it can be forgivven. This once. Oh? Call you Cronus? Wwell, I suppose you can call me Eridan, then. 

This all seems like a great idea, but, as time passes, you feel smaller and smaller in this huge chair, a grub who tries to fill an adult’s shoes. Quite pathetic. He would just laugh, and call you a doll, and remind you of your curfew. He must be laughing already, though, and all this is just a joke, and you are playing role of pitiful fool yet again. This is all incredibly unfair, and you frown to keep yourself from tearing up.

“Hey. Don’t frown. Suits you, but you’ll get early wrinkles.”  
You shoot up from the chair, saluting him instead of keeping it cool and casual like you planned to. “Mr Dualscar, sir! I didn’t expect you!”  
“Huh, strange. I thought that’s exactly what you were occupying yourself with.”  
“Well, yeah, it’s just, I was so enthralled with the block’s interior that I had forgotten the original purpose of my arrival!” You watch him lock the door. “Like, the maps are quite… They are such high quality! Are those originals?” And it was almost a smooth save, for fucks sake. No, he had traced his own maps and hung them up in a public space. Great question and deduction skills, troll Sherlock. You continue stacking brilliant questions on, as he stands near your chair. “If I may ask, why did you lock the door?”  
“Oh, don’t act coy,” he smiles, though it looks more like he is baring his teeth. “You’re smarter than that, aren’t you? Or was I mistaken?”  
“I’m not stupid,” you frown again. He puts his finger between your eyebrows and smoothes your expression out.  
“Now, now, I didn’t say anything like that. Don’t warp my words.” A hand slides down to your neck, fingers rolling over gills, again. You gulp.  
“What I meant is that... I understand! I understand what’s goin’ on, an I understand… how you feel… an’ I think that, I feel the same way, too! So, what I’m saying is that we’re on the same page about what’s happenin’, and that I’m glad that we understand each other. Not like anyone else could get us really, right?”

He pulls you in for a kiss.

“Now’s not time for talkin’,” He coos, and he’s right, and it’s not like words are doing you any favors at the moment, either. So, you wrap your arms around his neck tightly, hoping that this will be enough to convey all your emotions. He goes much further in showing his affections as he shifts you to the table, his hand now on your groin. His rings are cold both outside, as you feel them on your thigh, dragging your pants down, and inside, and you burrow face into his shoulder. It’s not long before he detaches you from his coat, looking at your face, and you lean forward for another kiss. He presses his lips against corner of yours, catching your hand, and, as your fingers tangle, your rings make a melodic sound. You hope to recreate this sound sometime later, maybe under calmer circumstances. This thought process is cut short when he presses you down into the table with all his weight. He’s big in several ways, and you hastily bite into his shoulder so as to not make any sound.

“Relax,” he whispers into your ear, “or it’ll feel worse.”

You try to follow his advice, which is not an easy feat, but as you get used to the rhythm while he gently strokes your back, you ease into it. It feels good, even, and you try to press back into him with your whole body as he presses into you, to attach yourself as closely to him as it’s physically possible. He murmurs something into your ear, but you can’t manage to focus on the words. It’s alright, though, because he doesn’t seem to expect to hear back from you. He kisses at the corners of your eyes, licking something away. Tears? You didn’t even notice.

It all goes by too fast and too slow at the same time.

“So, no need to use the pail?” you ask quietly as he zips back up while you lay on the table, genetic material dripping down on the floor, trying to look as presentable as you could in such situation.  
“Hm? Oh, don’t worry. Nobody’s gonna ask to fulfill your pailial duties while you’re in service.”  
“Right… and also, we’d have to be in a quadrant, huh?” you bite your lip as he arches his brow at you, then gently cups your face.  
“Look, don’t get the wrong idea, here: I like you. You clearly have potential, an’ it’s gonna be a blast looking at what you will eventually grow into an what you’ll achieve an’ all that... but you don’t wanna get involved with me. Besides, I know all too well how this scenario goes; You will grow a few ranks an’ run off with some shitblood into the sunset. I’ve been burned before, you know, so let’s keep this professional.”  
“But I won’t!”, you protest, grabbing onto his hand. “I’ve been burned, too, an’ I understand how it feels, I really do! Nobody could understand you better than I do! Really! An’, you know, we’re so alike in so many ways that it just might be fate, so why run from it?” you were running your mouth, you knew it. You lowered your voice, confidence waning, “I thought that I wanted to be like you, but, maybe… maybe, I just wanted to be with you instead?” You add quickly in a whisper, “I’m not a coward like those low life idiots that you had misfortune to meet before me. I actually get how hard it is, to be like us, how taskin’ and heavy our duty is, I know it so well.”  
“Really now? Not to put all of this into question, a course, but I would think that I would be the only person to live my life.”  
“Yeah, I get that too, I understand that I’m not just yet on your level, but I will be sometime soon, don’t you worry about that!”  
“Just yet?” His amusement was obvious in the form of a slight smirk, “I’ll give you this: you are much more amusing than others who, to quote you, I had misfortune to meet. And how exactly are you planning to catch up to me, an’ to do it ‘sometime soon’?”  
“It’s only a matter of me gettin to show my strategy an other skills, an’ soon enough in books an’ news, Ampora will be written with asterisks next to it to specify who it is out of us two!”  
“You know what, true. I can see the headlines already: Newbie lieutenant gets into first battle, causes many casualties, declared a hero and a champion of the fleet,” he laughs. You feel your face flare up. Just exactly what are those remarks? Is he pitch flirting with you now? He seemed so red before. Or maybe it’s weirdly affectionate and physical pale? You just can’t place it. Could he want you in several quadrants?

Or, maybe, this is some sort of game to him?

“At least it’s not seasoned admiral allows half a his fleet to drown ‘cuz he was distracted by some spider hag,” you spit, and his expression turns cold, and for a split second you feel like everything that happened was a complicated hallucination and you are still at the trials, and he is weighing necessity of your existence yet again.  
“Watch it. Wouldn’t want you to never get to those incredible deeds that you promise.”

Silence hangs awkwardly in the air. 

“You’re quick to turn to tears.”  
“No, I’m not! My eyes are just tired, that’s all”, you lie through your teeth. “Maybe earlier you got impression that I care about any a’ this, but the truth is I don’t! I don’t care at all! As a matter of fact, it’s just as I said earlier, I understand everythin’ that’s going on! What an entertainin’ evening this was, right? Thanks for havin’ me over, my pleasure. We both had our fun, and now it’s time to depart. Let’s keep this professional, shall we? Very well, what great advice and course of action, you are absolutely spot on, it is a privilege to have you as my superior. Farewell.”

This would be a perfect opportunity to swing your cape once more, now with the audience to appreciate the performance. It’s too bad that instead you have to quickly pick it up from the floor, soaked in bodily fluids the same color as the fabric. He must have tossed it on the floor so it would be an improvised mop cloth. Great. This is not how you expected your belongings to be treated from anyone, even him. This is not how you expected to be treated by him. What a huge joke, what a mistake. Whatever gods are ruling over this universe must be having a blast with your little life. Your cape gets thrown back on the floor like the piece of garbage it now is. You take a sharp turn on your heels and hurry to the door, just slowly enough to keep whatever’s left of your dignity with you. But even that intention is cut down when, turning door knob for the fifth time and not getting the door to open, you remember that it has been locked. Right. Before it seemed easy and logical that he did it to keep others out, since what was about to happen would have been saucy, and you understood that, but now it became clear that secondary purpose must’ve been to keep you in. Your fingers nervously thump at the door. 

“Enjoying your tantrum?” he drawls, lazy and bemused.  
“This is not a tantrum, I’ll have you know! The right term is emotional theatrics. I am, in fact, in control of whatever I say at every moment, and a tantrum is not havin’ control over your own actions.”  
“Then use that incredible self control to bring yourself back over here.”  
Staying next to the door and trying to stare a hole through it so you can slip away seems much more palatable right now.  
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”  
On second thought, you won’t achieve anything this way. Until he decides to leave, you will be stuck here, for sure. You should have brought something to break yourself out with, but this direction isn’t exactly how you pictured this evening to go. So, not seeing any other opinions for now, you surrender.  
“How cute. See, following orders is not that hard. Keep it up and maybe it will be so much easier to treat you seriously.”  
“I thought you did treat me seriously, or else why would you even ask me to come this evening?”  
He smiles widely. “Oh, that’s a good one, didn’t know you had it in you.” You puff your fins up in indignation. Just what is so funny? “Wasn’t jokin’, huh. Too bad. See, this is one of your problems, taking everything this seriously. That whole tirade earlier - just what was that all about? Such an accusing tone, almost makin’ me feel like I did something horrible! You were right about us both having our fun. You have to blow some steam off once in a while, and if you ask me, you needed this more than I did. Had you seen your face? It’s like you are a kettle placed on fire for literally every second of your existence. Is this your default expression? It was so pleasant to see you light up for a second there, and now look at yourself. All that gone, and what for? An insignificant question about quadrants. They are not the be all and end all, you know.” His hands catch your chin and he presses his lips against corner of your mouth for the second time this evening. “Yeah, see? Much better. A little smile won’t hurt you.”  
“So. You won’t just leave me, right?” you ask, a quiet question.  
“No, no. I’m here, alright. As long as you don’t run, I’m here”, he gives you short barking laugh. “Which you just tried to do, by the way, after swearing not to.” Ah, yeah, the episode with the door. You feel sting of guilt.  
“I wouldn’t have, either way. I wanted… I thought you’d follow me an’ turn me around? And tell me something. I don’t fucking know. Encouraging, maybe. That you actually care. That you understand.” That you love me. But you decide to leave this part out for now.  
“I do understand. So you try to understand me, too, alright? We’ll figure something out later.”

 

He places a hand on your shoulder. It’s somewhat comforting.


End file.
